Buried Alive
by Danielle
Summary: The crew learns a well kept secret of their one and only Tom Paris.


Disclaimer: Paramount owns them! Please! Understand, I don't own them! Any of them!

Author's note: ummm, enjoy, and please, let me know what you think. 

Buried Alive

His jaw ached and he could feel where the fist had connected with his eye. He was thirsty, so thirsty. What had happened? Where was he? His mind was foggy and he struggled to remember what had happened. He felt chilled, a dull ache forming in his bones.

The Mitsalie. He had been on their home planet walking through one of their market places. Why? Shore leave, he remembered that he had been on shore leave. The minister was very friendly and offered full trade and a place for Voyager to rest in their journey. The Captain had readily agreed. They needed the rest; it had been a hard few weeks.

His head was pounding and he was so thirsty. How did he get here? Where was he? He had to concentrate to form a complete thought. Was he under the influence of drugs? That would explain his confusion.

He had been talking to a small shopkeeper about their culture when he'd heard something from an alley. What had he done? He had gone to investigate. Why had he done that? That was dumb, he wouldn't do that, it could mean danger. His name. Someone had pleaded his name. Who? He didn't know. He went to investigate but was jumped from behind. Something was over his mouth; he tried to hold his breath. He struggled, but there were too many hands holding him. He had to breath, a chemical assaulted his mouth and nose and then…what? Had he passed out? Yes.

He'd awoken in a dark room. It was cold. He was cold now, so cold. And thirsty. Hunger gnawed at his stomach as well. Why was he in this room? It was a cell. Yes, they had him in a cell, but why? Why had he been there?

Ransom. They were holding him for ransom. What did they say they wanted? Replicators. Somehow they had heard about the replicators and wanted them. Well, they couldn't have them, not by starfleet protocols. Then how would he get back to Voyager? Where was Voyager? How long had he been there?

His head hurt, and he was thirsty and hungry. Why didn't they feed him? He searched his jumbled thoughts for an answer, and found one. The Mitsalie had a completely different anatomy; therefore their food was different too. He couldn't eat it. It wouldn't be good for him, right? He didn't care, he just wanted something to eat and drink. He wanted to go back to Voyager and eat some soup and curl up in his bed. He was so cold.

Where was he? What had he heard them saying?

"They won't trade for him. What should we do?" The voice had sounded frustrated and tired. Not as tired as he felt.

"Kill him." Was a reply. Was he dead? Is this what death felt like? Cold and alone? No, was still hungry and thirsty, and that wasn't possible when you're dead. Was it? Who knows, he didn't remember what it was like to be dead, and he didn't want to. They hadn't killed him, so where was he?

"Don't kill him. That wasn't apart of the plan."

"Fine. I suppose we could bury him in an old case. That will give his people a chance to find him and us a chance to get away."

"That could work." Was the reply and the voices faded off.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. No, oh jeeze. No, please. Is that where he was now? In a coffin? In that tiny space where he couldn't get out? Oh god, no, please. He had to know. Had they buried him alive? He was cold, and alone. For the first time since this ordeal began, true fear began to lurk its way into his stomach. Cold, alone, buried alive slowly suffocating. Breath, he had to breathe. Don't panic now Paris. A real man doesn't panic, his father's voice echoed in his head. Deep breaths, breathe. Ok, he could do this; he had to do this.

Tom slowly reached out to feel his surroundings, but he couldn't move. Oh no, it was that small. He had to get out. Now. He started to struggle against his confinement. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

"Tom". He thought he heard a voice, it sounded distant.

"Tom, please. Calm down ." A request, it was calm, familiar. It was the Doctor.

"Doc?" His voice sounded weak with its lack of use.

"Yes Tom, it's me. You're on Voyager, safe and sound."

"Why can't I see anything?"

"Open your eyes, it might help." Oh yeah. He hadn't tried that yet, now he felt dumb. 

The bright lights of sickbay shone into his eyes as he opened them. The EMH must have noticed his squint because a second later they dimmed. He heard the sound of a click, followed by a few more and he felt a slight pressure lift off his arms and legs. He inwardly gave a huge sigh of relief at being able to move freely.

1He sat up feeling his stiff muscles protest at the movement and he was handed a glass of water, which he greedily gulped down. With his thirst partially quenched, he took a moment to think about what had happened.

He remembered being abducted. He remembered his cold cell, his thirst and hunger. He suppressed a shiver; he really didn't like these memories. He noticed the Doc finish up the scan he was doing and sigh.

"Doc. What's up?" He was glad to hear that his voice sounded stronger.

"Tom, do you remember what happened?"

"I was jumped in an alley and abducted. How long was I there?" The Doc sighed again before answering.

"Four days. You were given a heavy dosage of a drug which I'm assuming was supposed to keep you subdued." Tom remembered, a needle breaking his skin flashed through his mind. That had gone on several times. His abductors had come in and given him the drug. Now he remembered.

"After a few dosages, the drug began to react to your system and formed into a light hallucinogen.

"So I was out of it for a while huh."

"Approximately one day." Tom caught on to the concern in the Doctor's voice, but it wasn't just concern. There was something else there too, he just couldn't pinpoint it. Suddenly a new thought occurred to him.

"Why was I strapped down to the biobed?" The EMH looked at him again. What was with that look?

"When we rescued you, you had been buried underground in the casing of an old torpedo shell. You were in there for approximately two hours. During that time you managed to break six fingers, three toes and your right ankle, as well as fracture your right arm and induce a mild concussion." Tom looked shocked. He'd done all that? The Doctor continued to answer his question. 

"The drug in your system only just ran clean through your system a few minuets ago, that is why you are now fully conscious. However, I had to strap you down so you would not cause further damage to yourself. You still seemed to believe you were in that casing."

He remembered, he remembered it all. He just couldn't get out of there, he couldn't get free. And the smells, oh god. They were there. He remembered seeing them there, just laying there, eyes wide and lifeless. Their mouths open with their last fearful screams. Oh god, oh god.

"Really?" His voice sounded surprised, which was not how he felt. He had tried everything he could to get away, to get out of that box of death. It was his nightmare.

"You'd have tried to get out too Doc. No one likes to wake up in a coffin." He finished in his matter of fact tone.

"I suppose not." There! He saw that look again, what was it?

"The captain would like you to report to the ready room for the debriefing. I'll let them know you're on your way."

"That's it?" He didn't think he'd ever gotten out of sickbay so quickly.

"Yes. Your dehydration and malnurishment as well as everything else have been taken care of. Now that the drug has run its course you are free to go. Although I expect to see you tomorrow morning for a final check up."

"Sure, whatever. See you later Doc." Tom casually walked out of sickbay, but the second the doors closed he slumped against the wall.

He remembered everything clearly. Too clearly. For two hours he had been back there, back at Caldick Prime. Only it hadn't seemed like two hours to him, it had seemed like forever.

After a few seconds Tom continued on his way to the bridge before someone came across him. He could get this meeting done now, write up a report and then forget about it. He could do that, he could forget. He tried to convince himself of that but he knew it was a futile effort. He had never forgotten and he never would forget. Ever.

He stepped onto the bridge and headed for the ready room. He could feel everybody's eyes on him. What was going on here? He was only kidnapped, it had happened before.

When he walked into the room he felt all the eyes in there turn to rest on him as well.

"Tom. We're glad your better."

"As right as rain Captain, thankyou." He casually admonished as he took his seat and threw a grin around the table.

"That's good to hear." She replied and started the meeting. She informed him of how the terrorist group of six had kidnapped him and held him up for ransom. It had taken the group a day to make the demands but Voyager had already known he had gone missing. Voyager's search efforts were dampened because of the 'hectonaltic waves' emitting from the nebula, which surrounded the planet, had affected the ships systems. Tom had already known that because the nebula was the reason that the crew had taken the shuttles down to shore leave.

They couldn't locate him because his comm. link would have had to be open in order to get a lock and even then the transporters would need to be recalibrated. All in all it had been one hell of a four days.

"Okay, so how did you finally find me?" He wanted to know, it must not have been too easy.

"One of the terrorists, which are now in custody of the Malatsie, had placed your comm. badge with you when you were buried. He had activated it in the hopes that it would help us find you."

"Well, wasn't that nice of him." Tom replied somewhat sarcastically even though he was grateful. Wait a second, so he had been locked up for two hours in his delirious state with an open comm. link? Oh no. His sudden theory was proved when Chakotay spoke up. 

"Unfortunately, we had to move Voyager closer to the planet and into the nebula to pick up the signal. The Hectonaltic waves were confusing Voyager's communication systems and your open comm. line sounded throughout the whole ship for those two hours."

"You couldn't turn it off?" Oh no, what had he said?

"Not without shutting off your link and losing our chances of finding you." The room suddenly fell quiet and remained that way for a few moments as they allowed Tom to sort through this new information, and then Janeway asked the one question he didn't want to hear the most.

"Tom, why did you lie about Caldick Prime?" Her voice was soft but confused. What? Oh god, what had he said? He looked up into her eyes and replied flatly.

"I never lied about Caldick Prime Captain, I was in a delusional state and whatever I said was not true. You want the truth, read my records, its all there." His voice held no room for argument; it was right to the point and almost forceful.

"If that's all Captain, I have a report I need to write up." At her nod he stood up and walked out. Well, at least now he knew why every one was looking at him strangely.

Captain Kathrine Janeway sighed and looked around her small ready room at the remaining senior staff.

"That didn't go to well."

"Well, we should have expected him to deny it, for some reason it is the way he is." B'Ellana growled, looking rather frustrated. The room remained silent for a moment as they reflected on what had happened, before Harry broke the silence.

"If you ask me, we should just leave him alone about it. If he ever wants to tell the truth he'll tell us."

"And what makes you believe he wasn't telling the truth just then?" The calm and rational voice of Tuvok spoke up.

"Come on Tuvok. You heard it just as the rest of us did. There is no way, even if he was delusional, that what he said wasn't true. The Doctor even said that his hallucinations were most likely based on his memories." B'Ellana argued.

"I agree with Harry. We let this drop until Tom wants to tell us what really happened." Janeway spoke up.

"And what if he doesn't?" B'Ellana asked.

"It is up to him. I know now that we know what really happened he might be more open about it, but don't get your hopes to high. We are dealing with Tom Paris here." She replied. At her nod the rest of the staff got up to carry out their duties, but their thoughts were basically focused around one very confusing Tom Paris.

Throughout the rest of their shift, and everyone else's on board, they kept hearing his voice. Broken, crying, pleading, filled with horror and fear, it repeated in all their minds. "Please, oh god no. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Hey, come on guys, wake up. Help is coming, please stay alive. Somebody help me! Please, please. Oh god. I'm sorry, Durk, I'm so sorry. I never should have let you fly."

Tom sank to his couch. What had he said? Oh god. Now they thought Caldick Prime wasn't his fault, but what had he said? He breathed in deeply and set himself into his meditation pose. He had to concentrate, he had to think. The memories of his friends washed over him. He wouldn't let them die in vain. It was his fault, his fault. He felt a silent tear slide down his cheek. He wouldn't let them die in vain.

END.

This is the end of the story, I will not be writing a sequel. However, if anyone else wishes to continue this little piece (big HINT) go right ahead, but please let me know about it. Thanks for reading.


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